


This Peace Has Gone on Too Long

by QueenoftheBritons



Series: In A Time of Traditions [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Fluff, Golden Age, M/M, Merlioske-friendly, Scruffy Pendragon Fest (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheBritons/pseuds/QueenoftheBritons
Summary: The kings of Camelot have many traditions, including that which encourages the ruler to grow his hair in peacetime. Arthur doesn't know where it started, but wishes that someone might attack soon; Merlin finds it all very amusing.
Relationships: Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: In A Time of Traditions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752613
Comments: 16
Kudos: 240
Collections: Scruffy Pendragon Fest





	This Peace Has Gone on Too Long

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post: https://beka-tiddalik.tumblr.com/post/160726927715/a-tradition
> 
> I haven't specified how long his hair is, I will leave it up to your imaginations and wishes ;)

Arthur was sure Merlin did not try to hold back his laughter, and that insufferable toothy grin his Court Sorcerer wore tempted him to demote the man if it meant he would no longer have to deal with his merriment. His merriment at _the King’s_ expense, no less. It was moments like this, Arthur thought, that he wondered what had pushed him to lift the ban on magic. Fortunately, his knights, those at one time he considered his closest and most loyal knights, reminded him exactly why he had repealed the ban. They were no longer considered his most loyal friends, but treacherous fools that had obviously been put under an enchantment by the warlock at some point, although all denied it.

Usually, it was these moments that irritated Arthur most, but the instance at the moment, the incident in question, that had caused Merlin such great mirth at his King’s expense, was even less humorous. Scratching at his hair, then the rather bushy beard he liked to convince himself he was growing used to, he stared at his partner with a weariness that had aged like a fine wine over the years; he was disappointed that despite having perfected the gaze, Merlin had, too, perfected his own wilful ignorance.

“Who came up with it, anyway?” The Court Sorcerer asked, not even trying to remove his smile which only grew wider with every brush of Arthur’s hair, his hand rushing through it as it used to, but the movement becoming longer every week. “This tradition?”

Arthur rolled his eyes in his way, the way that suggested Merlin was too ignorant of courtly traditions and perhaps he should go and research himself and _get out of Arthur’s way._ The meaning, though, was honestly that Arthur had no idea, but he was cursing whoever it was every single day the warning bells rang silent.

“You don’t know, do you?”

The King flinched, pouting as he forgot how well the warlock had come to know him.

Merlin’s grin flicked wider, his eyes lighting up as the creases Arthur used to look upon with affection turned against him in a betrayal worse than any other, “and you have to grow the beard, too?”

Arthur looked away from him now, Merlin enjoying his suffering far too much for a subject that was supposedly the most loyal to the crown, to him specifically. Apparently, those moments did not extend in peace time, and his Court Sorcerer took great advantage of the reprieve. Still, he nodded and let out a soft grunt in reply, and heard the laugh as it left Merlin’s lips almost instantly. He would have turned to glare, but he had learned long ago it made no difference, despite the years together his warlock refused to offer any pity _ever_.

Again, he scratched at his too long hair, moving over to a mirror to catch a glimpse of its length now. He knew without looking that it was _too long_ , but he had not checked in some time because he felt a dread when he did. His face dropped when he took a look, his eyes roving over the amount of blonde pouring from his disgusting scalp, and he wondered not for the first time when the next war might be. Peacetime was obviously his preferred time, but there were always disadvantages to every situation; his people were happy, the land was prosperous, but here, in his chambers, he could share his own suffering with his Court Sorcerer who was not so kind about it.

“Is there anything you could do for it?” He asked before he could think, and in the mirror, he caught Merlin’s eyes turn quickly to him, watching him with an amusement that had lasted their how-many-years together, now ruling almost as equals. It had not surprised the King that a significant rise in position had not changed the warlock, and though he would never say anything aloud, he was intensely pleased about it.

“What do you mean?” The amusement danced in his tone as his question reached Arthur’s ears, but, staring at his reflection, he shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know,” he turned now, wanting to look again at his ridiculous mane, but also hating when he did, and he rushed a hand through it once more.

“I could braid it,” the twinkle in Merlin’s eyes had once lifted Arthur’s spirits, but right now, he wanted nothing more than to have the Court Sorcerer take his leave. “Or you could just let me cut it,” he spoke again after a silence, with a more tender seriousness that Arthur had grown with in their later years.

He rolled his eyes in defeat, feeling an urge to throw himself on his bed as he might have done when he was a young prince, but only now let his shoulders slump. “You know I can’t,” he put his hands up in a gesture of helplessness, “it’s a tradition that has lasted for who knows how long.”

“And how many traditions is it you have changed already?” Merlin asked, tilting his head.

Arthur let out a sigh, “I know, but that is exactly why I cannot break this one.”

Merlin stared at him with curious eyes, listening, not interrupting for once.

“I have broken, changed, altered many traditions, and some of my changes have been welcomed, but others…” Merlin’s gaze never fell from his, and he felt confident discussing these issues with him, as he had throughout the years by his side, “some have met with open hostility, and it has taken time to bring the nobles or the people to see it to be a positive change.”

The King paused for a moment, as they both let their minds drift to the biggest change so far, standing in that room, while magic sprinkled Camelot in every crevice of the city, some of the people brightly joining in celebrations with its return, others shying away in fear. Now, though, a Court Sorcerer more loyal to The Once and Future King stood by his side, and the people and nobility were seeing the great things that could be achieved with magic on their side. Their peace had lasted a long while now, The Golden Age seemingly never ending, and it brought the two men a great delight.

“We have let our hair grow always in peacetime, to symbolise its longevity,” Arthur explained, though he knew Merlin was already aware of this; as much as he joked about his partner’s ignorance, the man had done much to gain knowledge on Camelot’s history, especially when he was thrust into the role of Court Sorcerer. Well, Arthur would not use the word thrust, really, more slightly nudged and encouraged. Merlin disagreed, but whenever the King offered to replace him, he never said any more. Although, he might just know by now that such were empty threats, since Arthur was not sure he could stand someone else in the position.

“I understand,” Merlin nodded, the amusement leaving with the change of tone. Arthur had long ago become more comfortable in the seat his father had left warm, but they were both aware when his confidence wavered some, or when he needed a push to follow his own way, even now. “It is these traditions, small but old, that are the most important. If the people see you follow these, they will be more likely to yield to those you change.”

Arthur, although used to Merlin’s wisdom by now, still eyed him suspiciously, allowing amusement to enter his own expression to lighten the mood in the room a little, “does your magic make you more intelligent, or have you been enchanted or possessed?”

The glint returned instantly in Merlin’s golden eyes, a trick he used to unnerve the King whenever he began to get on his nerves, but by now Arthur knew he had not done anything. Probably. He glanced around the room a second, just to check, and was sure nothing was out of place. Hopefully. He had noticed that occasionally, just to be that extra bit irritating and _not at all childish_ , the Court Sorcerer moved his furniture a little to this way or that. Later on, he found that his knights even put money on when he might notice. As much as it annoyed him, he wondered if he might get in on that, though, since if his torment was never to stop, he might as well try and make some money from it.

“I was born with it,” Merlin smirked, although Arthur already knew, having learned much about magic since he first found out his closest companion was a warlock – _NOT_ a sorcerer. He had had that fact reiterated to him almost a thousand times when asking Merlin to take the place of Court Sorcerer, trying to explain that he knew the difference, but the name was not that important, they both knew that Merlin was just being stubborn on purpose.

“So, you’ve been enchanted, then?” Arthur flicked the side of his lip up in a triumphant grin, taking pleasure when Merlin rolled his eyes in defeat.

“I could make your hair _longer,_ if you wish, _mortal_ ,” again, the fire lit his eyes, and Arthur unconsciously grabbed at his hair. He blinked witheringly, a tiredness one only knew when acquainted with Merlin, and dropped his hands, hearing the warlock laugh heartily. Maybe the King could declare war on him, he wondered, _two birds…_ “You’ll just have to put it up or something,” the warlock shrugged.

“I know,” the King sighed, hoping it would not come to this. His hair had never had a chance to grow this long, since they had been at war often. However, with Merlin by his side, offering a magical defence, unity had come easier, and there was time to simply dwell over the length of his hair.

“Soon you can braid the beard, too,”

Arthur grabbed what was closest to him, some pot of sorts, and threw it with a muscle memory from when Merlin had been the worst servant in any kingdom. Unfortunately, he was a much better warlock, and with an effortless flick of the wrist, the pot fell to the floor with a miserable clang, missing its intended target. Merlin’s lips turned into a thin line as he offered a disappointed frown at his grown King, but Arthur only shrugged. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all like this short drabble! I usually enjoy writing angst, so it was really a very nice break to write some cute fluff! I'm hoping to get another fic done for this fest, possibly a 5+1 deal, but I actually should do some work at some point... eh, oh well!  
> Let me know your thoughts on it, good or bad, and if you have any prompts or anything just let me know :)


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